And the Librarian's Guide to Flirting with a Co-Worker
by The Black Sun's Daughter
Summary: At first, it was just an idea to make Cassandra feel better. But then Jake started talking about flower-language and low-key flirting, and Ezekiel has an idea. He does get them from time to time, you know. Very good ones. Especially when it comes to stubborn, stupid smart cowboys.


**A/N:** **For flower meanings, I cross-referenced between three different books: _Secret Meanings of Flowers_ by Brenda Jenkins Kleager, _Language of Flowers (Illustrated)_ by Kate Greenway, and _The Language and Meaning of Flowers_ by Nicolae Tanase. Sometimes they conflicted, so I went with the one that had two out of three.**

* * *

It started off very simply. Ezekiel noticed that their resident redhead had been less than her usual chipper self the past few weeks. He knew it had to do with her shite parents and something about her grandfather, but since she'd looked ready to cry any time they mentioned it, he didn't pry too deeply into that. Sometimes it really wasn't better to talk things out. So, when he and Jake were walking back to the Annex, given the Back Door was on the fritz, he suggested that they do something to cheer her up.

"Like what?" Jake asked a little sullenly. He was just sulking because he'd needed Ezekiel's awesomeness to 'recover' a very rare and quite magical piece of artwork from a collector that had no idea what he'd purchased. Ezekiel didn't even mind, because a sulky Jake was kinda cute. Not that he'd _ever_ say that.

"I dunno, get her flowers? Girls like flowers, yeah?" Ezekiel bounded over to a flower shop that had several bouquets and arrangements set out in plastic buckets under the awning so the sun didn't blaze so harshly on delicate petals.

Jake followed him a little slower, hands shoved in his pockets, looking over the flowers with a sceptical eye.

"What about these? She likes yellow," Ezekiel said, tracing one fingertip over the fringed edge of a marigold petal, a cluster of the little pompom-like flowers in various hues of yellow, orange, and red.

The cowboy made a face like he'd just licked something sour. "Absolutely not."

"Why not?" he demanded, folding his arms at the vehement denial.

 _"Because,"_ Jake replied like Ezekiel was somehow the dumb one here, "marigolds mean grief, mourning. Not exactly the way to cheer someone up, Jones."

Oh. Well. He wasn't actually expecting there to be an actual reason. "Okay. These, then," he suggested, moving over to a small bouquet of pale pink flowers with many layered, frilly petals. Very girlish, very Cassandra.

"Nope. Peonies are for shame."

"Peonies are for—? Where do you get this stuff, mate? Are you having me on?" Ezekiel demanded, suddenly getting the feeling that he was being played a fool.

Jake rolled his eyes. "No, Jones, I'm not. Have you never heard of the language of flowers?" he asked; Ezekiel gave him a blank look. "Yeah, didn't think so. Look, man, back in the day, people used flowers to flirt and communicate because it was romantic and proper. Put 'em together a certain way, they make a message, like a coded letter."

"Y'mean, like how red roses mean love and all?" Ezekiel asked.

"Exactly."

Huh. How about that? Chewing the inside of his mouth, he turned around and spotted a few tiny potted flowers with only a few sprigs in them, something meant to be kept on a desk or an office windowsill. "What about this?" he asked, pointing to a tiny cluster of lavender blossoms. Surely there was nothing wrong with lavender. Why else would it be a fragrance for a dozen different things?

"Distrust."

"Oh, for God's sake. These?" He pointed to another mini-potted plant full of tiny yellow blossoms.

"Disdain," Jake answered, obviously amused, but then he finally seemed to get over his little game, the git, and pointed to a bouquet of dark purple flowers with white-tipped petals. "Get those. Dahlias mean elegance and dignity, and she likes purple."

Ezekiel pulled the bouquet from the plastic bucket and scowled at Jake. "Y'know, you could've told me that, like, four flowers ago."

The cowboy actually smirked at him. "I like watching you squirm."

"I hate you."

"Basil."

Ezekiel blinked at him, then understood. "Oh, you wanker."

Jake laughed at him all the way back to the Annex, no longer sulking.

* * *

The idea stuck with him, though. A language of flowers that was devoted pretty much to low-key flirting? It was perfect, given that Jake shrugged off Ezekiel's actual attempts to flirt as a joke, and if he tried outright saying it to his face, Jake could tell him to sod off in more languages than he had fingers. So, he'd take the sappy, romantic door number three because damn it, he was going to get _somewhere_ with the bloody cowboy. Ezekiel tried to ask Jenkins about this flower language code as casually as he could, but the thing was, the old codger had been around the block a _lot_ more than he had and knew pretty much every trick in the book.

But instead of prying or asking embarrassing questions or anything like that, Jenkins only raised an amused eyebrow, went over to a bookshelf, and handed him a small, slender book titled _The Language of Flowers._ It fairly simple to follow, thankfully, just a list of flowers, their scientific names, and what they meant, all nice and neat and alphabetical, too.

After spending a half-hour thumbing through pages, he finally picked out a good starting point and whipped out his trusty mobile to find where was the closest place he could find eglantine.

He left a handful of the flowers in a small, patterned glass vase that he most definitely did _not_ go and 'find' just for this purpose, set in the middle of the disaster area Jake liked to call his desk, right on top of his laptop, with a square bit of fabric folded under it. He didn't put a card or anything on it, figuring that the cowboy would be smart enough to figure out who they were from given his limited options.

When Jake arrived, it was with Cassandra in tow, and the two of them were talking animatedly about something from the last case. Ezekiel sat at the edge of the mezzanine, letting his legs dangle over empty air, pretending to poke at his mobile whilst really watching them in his peripheral vision.

"Ooh, more flowers," Cassandra cooed, having caught sight of the pretties first. She skipped over to the desk to sniff the flowers, oblivious to Jake's puzzled stare. "I've been telling you this place needed a bit more colour. I'm glad you listened. And they match mine, too." She adjusted a few of the stems so the blossoms were arranged more neatly, then scooped up an armful of books and headed in the direction of her lab.

Once she'd gone, Jake stepped closer and touched one of the petals lightly, a small but pleased smile lingering at the corner of his mouth. Ezekiel smirked at the blank screen in front of him. Score one for the thief.

* * *

Ezekiel waited until the eglantines wilted and died before going on another flower run. This time he gathered a dozen clematis flowers that were maybe not so coincidentally a deep shade of blue that might have matched the colour of Jake's eyes.

And because he felt kind of bad not getting any for Cassandra, he consulted his little book again and revved up the Back Door to go find several long, slender stems of blooming bittersweet for her, setting them in another tiny vase that he 'found' that complemented Jake's, arranging them on a corner of her desk. And, then, just for the hell of it, he found a tiny potted cactus for Eve too.

Again, Cassandra was delighted to find more flowers on her desk, even though she didn't know what they meant. She thought that it was the Library doing it, since Jake, Eve, and Jenkins had all denied being the source, and Ezekiel just shrugged her off like he had no idea what she was talking about.

Eve was bemused but also kind of touched to find the spiky little plant on her desk. "Well, at least it's something I can't kill," she said cheerfully.

Jake didn't say anything besides mumbling, "At least it ain't pink this time." Grumbling aside, though, the cowboy had a smile on his face the rest of the day.

Ezekiel might've just been imagining it, but he was certain that Jake started watching him more often when they went out on cases. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking.

* * *

Valentine's Day was there before any of them realised it, and wouldn't you know, they had a case involving a renegade cupid's bow that was getting a little arrow-happy. Honestly, it didn't sound that bad, until they realised that people were actually going crazy in love. Like, break-into-someone's-house-and-sleep-naked-in-their-bed crazy.

That was a little wild. A lot exasperating and a dash of frustrating, too. But they confiscated the bow and the arrows, locked them up in a cupid-proof case, and called it a day.

Ezekiel waited until the others were otherwise occupied with clean-up to run back to the Annex. On Cassandra's desk, he left a box of gourmet cherry cordials and a spray of Daphne odora. For Jake, a tangle of purple pansies and French honeysuckle with a slab of real English toffee. Eve got her flowers and candies from Flynn this time.

He sat on the edge of the mezzanine again, kicking his feet in empty air with a box of cheap (but tasty) chocolates in his lap as the others returned.

Even as Cassandra squeaked with delight finding her chocolates, Ezekiel noticed that Jake's ears had turned bright pink, and he had to look down at the box of chocolates so nobody else could see him grinning. He couldn't believe this was actually working, but damned if he wasn't getting some bloody _results._

When Jenkins glanced up at him, one eyebrow arched, Ezekiel smirked back and patted his pocket and the small, book-shaped outline in it.

* * *

Except, thing was, Jake still hadn't said anything to him after almost two months of flower-flirting. He didn't know if the cowboy was deliberately playing hard to get or if the big blockhead actually thought the Library was trying to flirt with him via flowers. Ezekiel was really hoping that it was the former because the latter was just...sad.

So, he decided, it was time to step it up a notch.

First, he left a single red camellia on Jake's desk in the vase.

Then, to make sure the cowboy _knew_ it wasn't the Library, he tucked a small spray of heliotrope in the door of Jake's truck after they went out for pizza, a few days after the camellia.

Another few days, and this one made him chuckle a little, he left a strand of Jacob's Ladder on a stack of books next to where the cowboy had crashed in a reading nook.

The next flower took him a week because he kept chickening out, but he finally managed to find the guts to leave pale purple lilacs taped to the inside of Jake's locker door in the Library. He didn't even have to pick the lock, either; when he came over, the door just popped right open. Sentient Libraries made good wingmen, apparently.

Finally, he left several jonquils sitting on top of Jake's laptop. And that was it. Now all he had to do was wait for an answer. And hope it wasn't a punch in the face.

* * *

Ezekiel wasn't sure where he went wrong.

He thought that his whole flower-language thing was a pretty brilliant idea. And it was romantic and artistic and all that other stuff Jake liked. He was, like, about 98% certain that Jake swung both ways, 'cause if he didn't, then there was something _really_ wrong with Ezekiel's gaydar. Except that it was going on three weeks, and he had zero response. Nothing. Not even lingering stares on cases anymore. Zip. Nada.

And that kind of stung. _Really_ stung, actually.

When he slouched back into the Annex, he was tired and hurt in more ways than one, so he almost didn't notice the foreign object left on his desk until he nearly crushed it under his heels putting his feet up. Ezekiel sat upright so quickly his chair loudly _thumped_ down onto all four legs again, his achiness suddenly playing second fiddle to the swell of hope in his chest.

He picked up the stem of Jerusalem oak between two fingertips, a little scared it might vanish if he handled it roughly.

"Y'know, I almost thought it was the Library," Jake said from behind him, and Ezekiel startled a little, jumping up from his chair. The cowboy was leaning against the doorframe, one arm tucked behind his back, the other hand holding one of the jonquils, slightly wilted and drooping now. "I _almost_ did. I mean, I knew it wasn't Cassandra, otherwise she wouldn't have been getting the flowers she was, right? I knew it wasn't Eve, she's got Flynn. Ain't no way in hell it was Jenkins."

For once, Ezekiel couldn't think of anything to say. He gripped the stem a little tighter, crushing it a little in his fist.

"But then it occurred to me...I told _you_ about the flowers, when we got the dahlias for Cassie. I told you that people used 'em to flirt." Jake smiled a little. "To be honest, I was confused at first. I thought you were just bein' funny or something. Trying to tease me about the romantic stuff like you always do. But you kept on."

Ezekiel swallowed hard and replied, "Well, you don't always listen to plain old English, mate, so I figured I'd give old-school Victorian a try."

Jake's smile grew, putting those little lines in the corners of his eyes. "Yeah. Sorry it took me this long to answer. I was taken a bit off-guard. But now that I'm here..." Tossing the dying jonquil into a trashbin, he brought his other arm out from behind his back. Cupped in his callused palm was a single red chrysanthemum. "Figured I might as well answer the right way."

He let out a slow breath, having to subtly hold onto the edge of his desk, even as he did an inner victory dance. "Well...you _did_ take your time about it," Ezekiel said, though it didn't come out quite as flippant and a lot more breathless than he was aiming. He reached out to take the chrysanthemum.

"I know." Jake didn't take his hand away, his fingers curled lightly around the back of Ezekiel's hand. "I suppose I'll have to make it up to you."

"Mm-hm. Definitely. I expect dinner and a film, cowboy. I did all the work so far, it's your turn now."

"I can do that."

Jake had inched closer to him the entire time they were talking, and Ezekiel had been unconsciously drifting forward too. Now they were almost toe-to-toe, and he could almost count the little flecks of green and grey in the dark blue of Jake's eyes. If he wanted to. When a rough, warm hand slid under his chin, Ezekiel tipped his head up without resistance, standing on his toes to meet Jake halfway. His stubble was rough, but his lips were soft and he tasted like peppermints.

"Friday?" Jake asked softly once they broke apart, still standing close enough their breath was shared between them.

"Hm?"

"Your dinner and a movie. Friday?"

Ezekiel opened his eyes and smiled. "Nah. We've got to save the world twice on Fridays. Saturday."

Jake chortled, the sound low and rusty from misuse, and he could feel the vibration of it in his own chest. "Alright. Saturday."

* * *

When Ezekiel came in on Saturday, there was a cluster of lily of the valley in an earthenware vase on his desk.

He touched one of the tiny white bells with a fingertip and grinned.

Whoever said that you can't give flowers to boys had obviously never tried it.


End file.
